Shakespeare Did Not Write Us
by never.a.day.too.late
Summary: Gwen had left him alone with Kevin for the summer - though Ben didn't know if he would survive long enough to get tell her all about it. Tell her how he could now pick a lock, and throw a good punch, and about the new aliens he could turn into. Tell her how he loved what Kevin tasted like late at night, or early in the morning, or sometime around noon, or just in general...
1. Pilot

When asked when it all started, the only thing he could think about was the first night in May when the soul of the sky befell that of the Louvre - a dreary sea of suicide and stolen art. He remembered that night quite clearly – well, that's not quite true, what he truly remembered of that night was quite little, really. But what he could recall from such a night was something deeply memorable.

Though really, how could one ever forget the night the heaven's fell?

Or how they fell with it.

He felt like a moon-stung Icarus in that sense, lying there in a bowl of his own creation after being shot out of the sky. Instead of a wax melting sun, his ruin was brought by an elegant magenta blast. However, unlike that of the sun which could only burn and simmer the wings, the energy beam was like death in pink gloss tearing apart the seams of his flesh. It was as if his whole being was swallowed and left to stew in the hell-jaws of an atomic bomb. His muscles coiled like a struck snake and spasmed until he was sure his lungs tore and his breath was snatched from him. For a time – a long time – he thought he ceased breathing altogether.

Logically he knew the accident was only half a minute long.

Yet, logic was as useful as a boat with holes when you were being scorched to ash.

He didn't remember at which point he transformed back into his human self: whether it was during the incident, or while he fell, or after he hollowed the earth as Jet-ray.

And while the fall itself was a painless one – he liked to think the gravel greeted him with gentle hands and a mothering hold. It was thick-headed to believe, naive as well, but it was much better than the reality of the event. – he was smart enough to know that if there was any sort of pain, his body was either in too much shock, or his nerves were too charred to feel it. The same could be said about the agony which should have bashed his bones when he collided with the ground.

Funny enough the blast, the pain, the descend, the impact – it was all a fuzzy cocktail of memories and his own damn brain trying to conjure puzzle-pieces and fabrications to fit the story he was told.

What truly reminisced in his mind that night, was as he fell, so did the stars. And while their plunge was one of triumphant grace and holy lore, his was like that of a broken doll.

Be he a doll, be he apart of the heavens, no matter what he be, he still felt akin to them.

Even more so when lolling in a crater and watching as the stars began to fall as a collection of combusted souls; all white with woe and dripping like wax off a candlestick.

You'd never pick any night to be shot out of the sky, but if given a choice he would tell you to pick that night of all nights. You would honestly consider yourself lucky to have been struck out at the same time as a cluster of shooting stars. Lucky that you were not lonely at what could have possibly been your last moments.

He sure did.

He thought he was ready for a deep rest at that point, he recalled the heavy slumber on his lashes as the last of the stars ran wild through the twilight.

Looking back, he knew how truly close he came to death that night.

It wasn't the first, and wouldn't be the last, but that didn't make it any less chilling.

Though, no matter how tied to the shooting stars he felt, they weren't his more evoked memory of that night.

"_Ben!_"

The irony was thick during his last bits of consciousness, and Ben didn't know whether it was Gwen's mana blast that stole the memory of his own name or his impact with the sidewalk but for some odd reason he couldn't recall it during all that was happening. Not until that moment. Either way, Ben didn't believe that in all his years to come, would he ever forget the memory of his name being bellowed out like that.

He never imagined Kevin saying his name in such a way. With so much emotion. So much worry. So much heartache.

It scared Ben.

It scared him more than death.


	2. Chapter One

"Ouch!"

"Come on now, stop moving. I need to clean you up before you head home, kiddo."

It had been two days since the accident. Two days and now his whole weekend was gone. As in what was once a casual Friday night of alien-ass-kicking was now a soft, May Monday morning. Though, Ben wouldn't have known the difference either way whether it was Friday, Sunday Monday, Christmas Day, it meant nothing for him. He had been in a self-induced coma for the whole of the weekend. So really, it felt as if only a few hours ago that Gwen lost control of her powers and shot him out of the sky. Apparently, being scorched alive and falling a hundred feet from the air does that to a person. Alien or not.

But it had been two days. Because it was no longer Eight-fifty-two at night, Friday the 1st of May, but Nine-Nineteen AM, May 4th. Two days.

He could tell by the digital clock in the heart monitor – _his _heart monitor. It woke in a spasm of alarms and beeping and flashing lights when Ben himself stirred out from of his coma and into a panic attack. He had made the mistake of startling himself into one when realising he was no longer out in the streets of Bellwood, but instead an unfamiliar white room attached to a number of wires. Well. No. Again, that was not true (it was hard to know what was true, and what was not when your mind was so unclear and cotton-wooled). His panic only _caused_ the mistake. The mistake itself was feverishly ripping out whatever wire he could find coming out from his body. The machine didn't seem to like that.

"Grandpa Max", Ben whined, "cut it out – I'm fine."

The stern look Grandpa Max held in his eyes could tell him otherwise, "_Son_. You were in a coma. You had a concussion. Burns. Bruises. A frac-"

"Yeah, well, I'm fine now, so cut it out!"

"_Ben_."

Ben knew that tone.

It was the tone Kevin would use when he had stepped over the line with the wrong person. The person who was usually only trying to help Ben. The tone in which told Ben he had the choice to either cease talking altogether or to apologise immediately. He didn't like that tone. Hated it, actually. Despised it, truly.

It made him feel like a _fucking_ child.

"It's okay, Kevin," Max said, a hand raised in the air in an attempt to soothe out the tension between the boys. "Ben's right, I am smothering. I'm just trying to do what Gwen would if she was here herself."

The scowl born out of both stubbornness and acrimony on Ben's lips pressed out into a droopy sulk at the mention of his cousin.

She was the only one not in Ben's room when he woke himself into a fright.

Ben let the green of his eyes stray over to where Kevin sat, alone and without the ginger by his side.

_Kevin_…

He seemed tired and drained, yet at the same time, so composed.

It wasn't very…_Kevin_ of him.

Honestly, Ben should be thanking the other teen. Or at least shying away from him in embarrassment.

For it was Kevin who had held Ben down during his panic attack when he first woke.

Kevin who had kept Ben from doing any more damage to himself while he thrashed around the bed like an animal caged. Kevin who reminded him how to breathe when he found himself without it. And again, Kevin, who had calmed him down and brought him back to his senses with placid touches and milky words.

_Breathe, Ben_.

_It's okay, Ben._

_You're safe, Ben._

_Come on Ben, count to ten with me. _

_That's it, Ben, good job._

_Breathe._

_I'm here, Ben._

_You're not alone, Ben._

God. Maybe he was a child.

"…It's not her fault, you know. She shouldn't be punishing herself like this." Ben sunk deep within the white of the bed, his words were that of a church mice. Quiet. "It was an _accident_."

Max casted the young hero with sad eyes, "we know that, Ben. But Gwen doesn't."

The brunet twitched with bother.

"It was an accident out on patrol. We were fighting. I got caught in the cross fire. It happens!"

"Not every damn time you use your powers, it's not."

Kevin was now peering out of the only window in the room. He wore a grim air around him like how one would wear a winter coat on a cold day. Dressed for the occasion.

_Jeez. How can he be that cold? And towards Gwen as well. What a heartless jerk._

Logically, Ben knew Kevin was right, and that his thoughts were ones based on emotion and the need to protect his cousin. Jerk or not, there was no denying that. How could he? He was living evidence that Gwen had lost all control of her powers. That her Anodite side had become too great for a rookie like herself to handle – a _human_ like herself to handle. Alike to Ben, Gwen's emotions played too much into her abilities. Triggering them to behave in such an abnormal way was bound to happen in any type of confrontation.

Ben just never thought she would lose control in such a way where she'd shoot down every moving target in sight. Taking him out in the process as Jet-ray, as well.

"That's enough sulking for one day, kiddo, time to get you home before your parents come after me for dragging you away from school for a last-minute 'fishing trip'."

The hero gave his Grandfather an odd sort of look. Ben was fifteen. A boy ripe in his teenage years. Why would he waste away a whole weekend on a fishing trip? Sometimes his parents worried him how gullible they could be.

"Kevin." Grandpa Max said, calling the attention of the quieter teenager. "Would you take Ben home for me? I have a few things to clear up here."

Grandpa Max took off with those last words even though Ben still had questions that weighed anxiously on his tongue. He wanted to know what the fate was for that alien they were fighting the night of the accident. If it was caught, or whether, because of Ben's slip up: escaped. For fuck sake, Ben didn't even know the alien's name. But now Grandpa Max was gone. And Ben was left alone – alone with Kevin, waiting for the older boy to take him home. The brunet didn't want to talk with Kevin, discuss his worries and self-disappointment with Kevin. Kevin didn't _do_ emotions. Didn't do talking about emotions. He wasn't good at talking, didn't like talking. Ben had known him long enough now to know how it was with him. Every time Kevin and Gwen would get into a heated discussion (mostly about why Kevin hadn't asked her out already), all Kevin would do was spit venom or completely shut down the conversation altogether. It had left tears in Gwen's eyes on some occasions. And anger in Ben's own. Kevin, however, didn't seem to care.

Kevin was a jerk.

"Oi, Tennyson. I'm talkin' to ya'."

Blinking a few times, Ben realised he had spaced out. Though not uncommon for him – he got bored easily. Fight him – Ben was always aware of his surroundings, and if someone was trying to get his attention. He had to be in his line of work. Because if you don't get observant – you get dead. Why he didn't catch Kevin's words, he didn't know. Maybe it was a fresh-out-of-a-coma thing?

Ben grunted, indicating to Kevin that he was now participating in the conversation.

"Get dressed and meet me outside. You've got ten minutes before I come back in and drag your scrawny ass out. Clothed or not." The tension within Kevin's jaw as he spoke did nothing but augment the gravel of his voice. The Osmosian was vexed, Ben could tell. And that, in return, annoyed the brunet.

Was the thought of being alone in a car with him that…_incommodious_? It seemed as if – without realising it or purposely meaning to – Ben had peaked a new level of annoying. Yay.

In reality, though, it bothered Ben.

It bothered Ben because Kevin wasn't _always_ a jerk.

He was just always one to _Ben_.

"Come on man!" Ben could whine, Kevin was being a jerk, as usual. Ben didn't know if he could walk, let alone get dressed in such a short amount of time. His limbs felt like anchors in the sea of white and sheets he was currently lost in. So yeah, Ben could whine. "I just woke up from a coma, cut me some slack!"

Kevin shrugged, leaving the room the same way Grandpa Max did.

"Not my problem."

iIIi

Ben had made at least eleven discoveries since being woken from his coma. Discovery number one: most people who were previously in a coma don't usually have an appetite until quite sometime after the audial. However, Ben was not _most people_.

"Yo. I'm hungry, man."

"That's nice", Kevin replied. He was driving at a civil pace for once, number on five Ben's list of discoveries: Kevin Levin can, in fact, do the speed limit. "Tell that to your ma' when you get home."

It was clear to the brunet that the conversation had ended, and that Kevin wasn't going to get him food. Ben thought it was an appropriate time to moan about his dislike of Kevin's new attitude.

Boring Kevin was almost as bad as Jerk-face Kevin.

So Ben took to sulking in the front seat of the cameo instead. Which became discovery number seven: sulking in the passenger seat of Kevin's car was way more dramatic then sulking in the back like a loser. While the backseat of the cameo was his usual place – Gwen liked being in the front. And typically was, too. Something to do with giving her better reach when tracking down a baddie or… _something_. It was _total_ bullshit in Ben's eyes. But in Kevin's car, there are certain rules one needed to follow to be rewarded with the front seat: 'first come, first served' and 'a fight to the death as long as you don't get blood on the leather' was the traditional rules. So naturally, Ben was stuck at the back for most rides – while it was just him and Kevin, Ben took the only good advantage of not having Gwen around and scored the passenger seat.

With his lips a pout, Ben drew out a sigh and refocused his downcast eyes off Kevin and out onto the street they were currently humming down. The front seat window did wonders for the cinematography of the whole performance. Everything from mutual coloured houses with their grassy lawns and picket fences to cars dull in colour and character compared to the one Ben was currently in, was like a smear of humdrum on the window of the cameo.

Ben's second discovery so happened to be Kevin's ability to keep a promise. He wasn't joking when he'd threatened Ben earlier about changing out of his hospital gown and into his daily attire. And fast.

Discovery number three: When Kevin means ten minutes – he _means_ ten minutes.

Not long after Kevin did in fact 'drag his scrawny ass out', the young hero stumbled upon his third discovery.

Discovery number four: Plumbers were tightly associated with Barbers.

How exactly?

Aliens. That was how.

Apparently, Barbers and Barbershops acted as doctors and hospitals for the immigrant Aliens stationed on earth as well as providing free healthcare for Plumbers injured on duty.

So while Ben thought he and Kevin were walking out of Bellwood's Plumber Base, they were actually walking out of Bellwood's local Barbershop. A place Ben himself had been a regular too since he was three when Grandpa Max first took him to get his hair cut…

"Why wasn't Gwen there when I woke up? I mean, _you_ were."

It took some time for Kevin to find his voice. Ben didn't know if it was because the Osmosian chose to chew over his words, or if he was contemplating answering the brunet at all. Kevin continued to thump his thumb on the wheel of the cameo nonetheless. And while the beat didn't harmonise with either the white noise of the stereo or the purr of the car itself, Ben was convinced it was the pulse of his own thoughts which Kevin was following.

Finally, the tapping stopped. "School."

It was a simple answer. But not the right answer.

"Bullshit."

Kevin snorted as he shot Ben an unimpressed glare, "if you didn't want a bullshit answer don't ask me a bullshit question: simple. Use your head, Tennyson. Why do ya' think she didn't want to be there?"

"She's being ridiculous", Ben argued, the heat of his words sparked tension within the car. "It's over. It happened. It's in the past. We don't need to bring it up or hold anyone accountable for it. So why can't she just do the same? It was an _accident_."

Ben didn't know when he stepped over a line, or what line he'd stepped over, but whatever he said had caused the white of Kevin's knuckles to bloom bright and brutal as he throttled the stirring wheel.

Thank god they were at a red light.

"Listen, _Ben_." Kevin hissed. "You don't _get_ what it feels like to lose control of your powers. To be consumed by something of your own creation until you're nothin' but a mad dog. You're just too much of a 'goodie-goodie' to comprehend it. What happened to Gwen – it scared her. Big time. It wasn't the first time this shit has happened. The only difference this time was that you were her target, not some rogue alien freak. So yeah, excuse your cousin for being _ridiculous_. If I'd ever lost myself like that, I'd hope someone had the common sense to pop a cap in my ass and just end me."

The last of Kevin's words caught Ben off guard.

"Kev," Ben arched an eyebrow up at the other teen. "You kinda already have…when we were kids. Remember? You were that little eleven-year-old psychopath who tried to kill me. Like twice."

Kevin rolled his eyes with a new sense of annoyance. "What I _remember _istellin' ya' to drop that, Tennyson. And exactly, I was eleven. A kid. You don't kill kids."

"…But now?"

"What do ya' do to a rabid dog, Ben?"

Ben bit his lip.

"You'd put it down."

There was a dreary dread in the air after that. The sort you would find on a December day after a funeral. And the dire of Kevin's reply did nothing to help.

"_Exactly_."

Discovery number eight: Kevin didn't care if he died.

The light finally turned green.

iIIi

Time seemed endless as silence hung in the air like a dead man after their conversation.

"Get out."

Ben jolted at Kevin's cut-throat words.

"What? Are you crazy? I'd be walking into open traffic!"

"Ben," the Osmosian said, bewilderment igniting the dark of his eyes. "We've been parked out the front of ya' place for the past six minutes."

"Oh." Uncertainty struck the brunet hard. "I knew that."

He didn't.

In almost complete unison, both teenagers departed from the cameo. However, that didn't last very long. Ben's footing was as hesitant and precarious as a newborn fawn's. Kevin, on the other hand, walked with pure swagger. Their dissimilar strides fashioned a large and uneven gap between the two teenagers.

"Hey, James Dean", Ben called out after the other. "You left your precious 'ride' unlocked."

Kevin shrugged, "yeah, so what of it? You tryin' to tell me you live on the South Side, Benjie?"

The hero stood shocked. No. Not shocked. Shocked was too simple, too austere. Ben was completely and utterly flummoxed. Not unlike that of the youth of the first war: fervent to be drunk upon the winnings and legends that came after, but ultimately shell-shocked at the realities that come with the title _victor_.

Who the hell wouldn't lock their car?

Good neighbourhood or not, that was Kevin's _baby_.

Discovery number nine: Kevin kept his car unlocked.

"I don't have my keys I hope you know. And I don't think my parents are home, either." Ben said once they reached the front door. For emphasise, he jostled at the doorhandle and tossed a long, frustrated gaze over his shoulder at Kevin. Ben didn't want to wait until his mother or father came home to be let inside. He was weary boned and beaten. Spent from the adjustment that came from waking from a coma. Short or not, coming out of any coma was hard. Not to mention his body was still thrumming with ache and the heaviness hadn't left his limbs yet.

Discovery number five: Funny enough, being in a coma for two days was somehow, extremely exhausting. Who would have thought?

"Well, I don't know about ya', but I ain't waiting out here until that happens."

Whilst Ben cocked his head and ruled Kevin's words as lacking any sort of real sense, the Osmosian dropped down to one knee. Absorbing matter was Kevin's thing. Unlike a lot of things, it came easily to him. He was an Osmosian, after all. It's what he did and had done since he was a boy. Take, absorb, whatever: same shit, different sink. So Kevin had no problem absorbing the materials from the Tennyson's front door and using it to shape his finger into a key to correspond with the lock.

After that, it was basically child's play to pick it.

"Tell me you're not doing what I think you are doing?"

_Click_.

"I told ya'. Use that head of yours, Tennyson." Kevin gave a roguish smirk, one Ben was pretty sure he could only pull off, and swung the door wide open. "How'd ya' think I got those clothes for you in the first place?"

Ah. Yes, his clothes. The ones he found in a bag by his bed when Kevin told him to get dressed all those hours ago. At first, he thought they were left to him by either his Grandpa Max or Gwen for when he woke. But when coming across the boxes that were packed in the bag, Ben knew that was _not_ the case. Because only Kevin would find amusement in packing Ben his 'I don't believe in Aliens' underwear after being attacked by an alien, while _being_ an alien, while being shot out of the sky by his alien cousin. It also so happened to be the same pair of underwear Kevin had bought him for Christmas last year.

It was his only gift from the teen.

Which brought Ben to his second and tenth discovery since being out of his coma.

Discovery number two: Kevin kept a spare set of clothes for the three of them in case of an emergency.

Discovery number 10: In his spare time, Kevin liked to break into Ben's house, and room, to steal his underwear.

_Oh, God._

"Oh, God."

"Yeah, Benjie." The older teen cackled like a fox, "ya' should _really_ clean your room more often."

Ben didn't think he could comprehend the reality of what Kevin was hinting too at the moment. He didn't think he honestly _wanted to_. Jesus. The things he'd done in that room. The things he'd left carelessly around in that room. How many times had Kevin snuck in when Ben had gotten up late for school and in his haste to leave the house on time, left certain..._things_ on the – holy fuck!

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod._

The brunet sucked in a deep, deep breath.

"You know what, dude?" Ben said, "I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened, and go to bed. I've saved the world too many times to have to deal with this shit."

Ben chose not to listen to whatever remark Kevin had to offer as he began to scale the staircase. He was tired and already starting to undergo the severities of discovery number six. The brunet didn't think he had to worry about allowing an ex-convict like Kevin to roam free within his the comforts of his own home. If the worst thing he could steal was a pair of stupid underwear, the hero didn't see any harm in having the Osmosian hang out downstairs whilst he slept. Plus, if Kevin did get bored, he could just leave. If Kevin did not have a problem letting himself in, Ben didn't understand why he would have one letting himself out.

The spring sun was starting to become a harsh beauty, even as it nestled between the blue and white of the sky, one could tell summer was at stalk by the threshold. Ready to scorch the gates of Bellwood with a battalion of sweltering and fevered heat. Hell was coming in form of summer in the next season, the brunet could tell. But that was a crisis for Future-Ben to worry and protest against, right now, Present-Ben couldn't really care. All he wanted to do was get into bed, and never see the light of day ever again. Ben's current blessing, however, was having a bedroom which was dim and cast in a cool ambiance. Almost as if in a childish indifference towards the midday sun. A small blessing. But one much appreciated by the hero, nonetheless.

Ben didn't know how one would describe the way he crept into bed and slid between a pair of cool, navy sheets. Though, if given the chance, he'd say he didn't know, didn't care, and would like to go to sleep. _Please_.

Unlike that of the hospital's bedding which was a stiff eggshell dye, and gave off a stinking perfume of bleach and disinfectant, his own sheets smelt of his cologne and home and other things he didn't want to mention but happy to be surrounded by at the moment for the familiarity of it all. Days like these had Ben grateful he had something like a warm bed, blissful parents, and a nice house to come back to. It kept him sane. To know that no matter how badly he fucked up out there, or how many things changed out in a world so callous and inimical, everything at home, as well as his inner circle of loved ones, stayed the same. It was a good security blanket to have. A nice bubble to live in.

But that's the thing with bubbles. They liked to pop.

Ben couldn't recall falling asleep, but the whole 'didn't remember' thing was really starting to grate on the last of his nerves. The hero did, however, remember what had woken him up in the first place.

A gruff, obdurate outcry.

_Kevin._

One advantage to passing out from fatigue was not needing to get dressed before stumbling upon your intruders as they may or may not be torturing your maybe-maybe-not-best-friend. Yeah. Ben didn't know what Kevin was to him half the time, and probably vice versa. Best friend, friend, pain-in-the-ass? He wouldn't know. Ben didn't have a lot of friends. And Kevin, well, Kevin didn't have a lot of friends that wouldn't sell his ass out for some quick cash. So naturally, Ben would call Kevin his best friend considering they spent the past year watching each other's backs and saving each other's asses. The brunet would usually like to debate formalities such as these with the person so no miscommunication about their relationship status would occur. Then again, this was Kevin he was commenting on. And Kevin does not do _talking_. Not that kind of talking anyway. Because Kevin could talk and tease. Like talk shit and tease Ben about his shit. But not talk-talk.

He does, however, give a gruff, obdurate outcry when hurt.

So crap.

Kevin was hurt, or possibly worse – like bleeding out on Ben's parent's sixteen-thousand-dollar Italian rug – and Ben was having an inner debate whether or not it was appropriate to call him his best friend.

Jesus, some maybe-maybe-not-best-friend he was.

The hero didn't give it a second thought as he raced down the stairs of his house to be at the aid of his… teammate. Hand itching to feel the dial of the Omnitrix tight between the ends of his fingers, Ben resisted the urge to Humungosaur the situation. He didn't think he could make up a lie good enough to explain the dinosaur-shaped hole in his roof to his parents.

In the end, Ben was glad the natural fear he held of his parents had directed his plan of attack into a more rational one. For, as the hero staggered down on the last few of the stairs, he came upon a sort of infrequent but not unfamiliar situation. Whilst Kevin was not bleeding out on a very expensive rug, he was being fixed to Ben's living room wall by the hot pink extremities of his grandmother's manner.

Whereas it did not mean absolute danger, it still wasn't the most superb circumstance to walk in on.

Plus. He didn't think Kevin could breathe.

"Ben!"

The brunet didn't have time to interrogate his grandmother's rash actions as his ginger-haired cousin swathed him in her arms.

"I'm _so_ sorry", Gwen sobbed, and he knew she truly meant it. He could feel the wet of her tears dampen his shoulder: it contradicted the warmth and affection of her embrace.

Ben knew Gwen was apologising for putting him in a coma, but he couldn't help but feel as if that wasn't the only thing she was asking forgiveness for.

"Gwen. What the hell is going on?" Ben barked. Loving embrace or not, Gwen had let their Grandmother attack Kevin. That wasn't very teammate-y of her to allow. "Verdona! Put Kevin down!"

Verdona gave her grandchild one of her careless leers, not taking Ben's demands as the gospels he was trying to invoke in his voice.

"Hey, kiddo! So glad you could finally make it to the party!"

"This isn't a game, Verdona!" The teenager threatened, letting go of Gwen and reaching for the Omnitrix. "Don't think I won't make you."

"Grandma Verdona, listen to Ben. _Please_."

The older Anodite wasn't pleased with Gwen's plead, Ben could tell by the tightness which drew her eyes into narrow slits. Though without another beg or demand, Verdona simply snapped her fingers and the rosy grip on Kevin evaporated. However, their Grandmother wasn't the most civil of extra-terrestrial, and let the teen drop to the floor like a sack of bricks.

Ben hit the nail on the head before, because as Kevin convulse with the pressing need to reflate his lungs with air, he measured Verdona with a sinister glare.

Kevin really couldn't breathe – _wasn't_ breathing.

"OK. That's it, someone better start talking right now, or so help me-"

"Ben, calm down. I can explain and I promise there is a good reason for everything." Gwen had that determined look in her eyes. The one Ben usually admired and trusted. But for the moment, with how aggressive Verdona had been, the hero questioned his cousin's intent.

_Cousin_.

It was true, Gwen was still his cousin. She deserved to have her side of the story listened too. No matter the hounding sense in Ben's gut that he wasn't going to like it one bit.

"Tennyson!"

The brunet snapped his head towards the sound of Kevin's raspy voice. He sounded as if someone had forced him to swallow sawdust. It honestly stirred Ben's faith in his cousin's choices in a wicked and terrifying way. His belief in _Gwen_ shouldn't tremble at the sight of Kevin buoying by the wall, slightly battered and greedy for air.

Gwen was his cousin. His friend. His family. His blood.

Kevin was…

"What have I been tellin' ya' all day, Tennyson?" The Osmosian spat in a savage manner. "Use ya' head, and think! Why else would your Looney Tune of a Grandmother be back in town? And why would your cousin be so calm about everything? Think about it, Ben. _Think_."

There was a monster in Ben's living room.

And he could feel it stalking in the dark of the room, the dark of his mind. Slinking through the shadows like it was one with the night. It was malevolent. It was malicious. It was malign.

Rapacious in its hunt, it wanted Ben all teary and raw.

With piercing teeth and black, serrated talons.

It was the thing that popped Ben's bubble.

"…No…That's not right…Gwen." It was like his tongue didn't fit right in his mouth anymore. Too fat with negation and turmoil to know what to do with itself. He couldn't form his words correctly. "You're not…You can't – we're a… team. Us. _US_. M-me, and, and you, and Kev – Kevin. You can't…"

Gwen didn't look at him this time as she spoke.

"I can explain, I promise."

Discovery number eleven: His cousin was leaving him, _Gwen_ was leaving him.


	3. Chapter 3

He never noticed before, but Kevin had a slightly crooked nose.

"Bullshit. This is you, runnin' away."

It wasn't obvious.

"No, no. This is me, not being selfish enough to risk others and their safety. It's okay, Kevin, I wouldn't expect you to understand something like that."

But if one were to study the rogue lines of Kevin's jaw – unlike that of the crookedness of his nose, the older teen's jawline was well defined – to the thin of his lips they would see how the cliff of his nose curved to the left instead of lining up kindly with the dip of his cupid's bow.

"O, so that's what this is, uh? A hero's sacrifice? The great _Gwen Tennyson_ saving the souls of the damned? Wake up! This isn't a fairy tale, Gwen! There ain't no hero or villain in this one. Just _you, _me, and Tennyson."

Maybe it was the way his face drew tight to snarl at Gwen, which caused Ben finally to spot the trait? Or maybe it was how he glared down it when Gwen would creep too close in his space in their war of words. Either way Ben had to admit, it married well and true with his mischief charm – spilling rumor and word of his devious spirit. The bad boy you'd rather sneak through your bedroom window, and not the young gentleman who you would bring to dinner to meet your daddy.

"Stop being so stubborn, Kevin! You know after everything that has happened over the last few days this is the best option for me – for us!"

He wasn't born with it, Ben didn't think. Kevin didn't have the kink in his nose when they were kids, Ben would have remembered. The brunet cocked his head like a bird on a wire: or was he?

"Come off it, Gwen! Be real. You _wanna_ do this. _Wanna_ go with her. All ya' needed was an excuse, and what better one than knockin' Tennyson into a coma!"

No. No, he wasn't. It wasn't the type of curved where it looked natural. It looked manmade. Knowing Kevin, it was probably shaped by blue knuckles and someone else's crooked smile. Kevin liked to fight. Like the drunk taste of blood and ire and adrenaline between bared teeth or leering lips. Liked how at first the bruises bleached the skin with split wine, then with time, mixed a dye of blueberry blood until the bash imitated that of raging violet.

Kevin liked to get mean.

Gwen held a hand over the small of her mouth, caging a wounded gasp, "how could you say something like that?"

But sometimes Kevin got _too_ mean.

"If there was anything – _anything_ – you could have done, anyone you could have gone to, to have stopped yourself from becoming that – that _thing _when we were kids…wouldn't you?" The ginger's words were bombs of swollen drear once having lost all its gunpowder and curse. "I don't want to be like that – be like _you_, Kevin. I don't want to lose control of my powers. I don't want to hurt anyone. I could never…"Gwen cradled herself with the length of her own arms in a lonesome act, desperate to rid herself of the grief and grim which slugged in the in-betweens of her ribcage like capped bullets. Ben saw her face pale and pale and pale until he worried she was going to be sick.

Kevin sunk into himself with a heavy look upon his face. Yeah, Kevin got mean, but he also got sad.

"But you're _Gwen_", Ben said, his voice but that of a whisper. "You've always been the perfect, nerdy, know-it-all cousin of mine."

Gwen shook her head, "not this time, Ben. This time I hurt you."

Ben wondered if what was poisoning the red of his blood was the same taste of toxic which had Kevin like that of a rabid dog as a child, and Gwen a rampant powerhouse only a few days before. Because now he was anything _but_ a whisper, now he was a roar.

"Will everyone fuck off with that? It was an accident. An accident! It happened fucking once! Once, goddamnit! And now everything is wrong – _wrong_!"

Ben never understood the difference between what was anger and what was fury and what was rage. To him, it was the same thing. When you were angry, you were angry. When you were furious, you were angry. When you were raging, you were, again, angry. Angry. Angry. Angry. But now he knew the difference. And how big that difference was. Anger was all black coffee and paper-cuts, anger was enough to make someone go crazy, idiotic. Fury was a different breed, however. The smell of petrol and a shot of vinegar – fury was something of sour births and addictive upbringings, it made you go mad.

But rage – rage was something else, something horrific.

The stalk of a cat, a bargain between predator and prey, the grim reaper. Rage was something of delicious abruptness. It never boiled under the skin, never simmered between the cheek and tongue. It just seemed to suddenly be there..

It just _happened_.

Rage made you go psychotic.

"Breathe," Kevin said. "_Ben_, breathe."

Ben didn't understand. He was breathing. Swallowing so much air that his chest was like a balloon about to implode, stretched and tight and swollen.

But then Kevin used that god-awful tone, and the round of Gwen's face was a sickly grey, and Verdona _just_ sat there.

Dainty hands cupping the bottom of a steaming mug, the Anodite lounged gracefully in a chair as chaos poisoned the air. She didn't bother with her own input or opinion with the situation. She just sat with lips all smug and knowing and casually drinking from her cup as she watched on.

She popped Ben's bubble and looked on as everything came crashing to the ground like it was some kind of soap opera.

"You!" Ben snapped, "if it wasn't for you, my cousin wouldn't have these stupid thoughts in her head and everything would be okay! Get out! Get out, get out. I swear to fucking God, get out! You're sick, Verdona. Sick! If you don't get out of my house – my life! – I swear I'll make you wish I was never born your grandson. Don't you _ever_ come near me or my cousin again, or I'll make you regret it, you witch!"

"Ben, that's enough!" Gwen said, her voice edging on ireful. "You can't speak to Verdona like that, she's our grandmother. And these _stupid thought_ of mine never came from her, when you were – were…I was beyond worried, and just so many thoughts were going through my head. So I called her. Asked Grandma Verdona if she could do anything to help. And she can…and it's not going to be forever, I'm coming back. I promise."

Verdona gave the two bickering teenagers a cherry smile, "Gwendolyn is right, dear. Whilst I admit, I did try to get her to stay fresh and fun with me for more than just summer break, you two are my only grandchildren. All I'm here to do is help Gwendolyn. As well as you, Benjamin."

Ben bared his teeth, not having any of his grandmother's colored words. "That's bullshit! I don't trust you, Verdona. I can't! If she goes with you, if Gwen stays with you over the summer break, you'll trick her into staying with you for the whole seventy years it takes for an Anodite to develop their true powers!"

"O, come on, kiddo, lighten up!" Verdona teased, "and here I thought you were the fun one, Ben."

"Grandma Verdona", the ginger warned, seeing a feral mood simmer in the pits of her cousin's eyes. "Please don't antagonize him…I want him to understand. I want Ben to be okay with me leaving."

Verdona's scowls were always something that rubbed Ben the wrong way. His grandmother was always the type of woman to dance across a warzone with a playful leer, she rarely smeared the truth of her emotions upon her face. However, when she did choose to express a rather strong emotion, it was something violently raw and unsettling.

"I see." The Anodite derided. "I best take my leave then. Seems like the life of the party is starting to die out. No fun in that."

"Thank you, grandma."

"I'll see you kids in four days, don't miss me too much now!"

There was that familiar spirited tune to Verdona's voice as she spoke and her mouth split into a grin much like that of the Cheshire Cat. She blew a sweetly sick kiss towards her grandchildren, almost teasing their twine thick relationship, and vanished in a flare of bursting hot pink.

Minutes melted with the stars and everyone left in the Tennyson living room was sunk in a timeless void of hush and laze. It seemed the fire in everyone's bellies had left when Verdona did and no one craved to continue rioting about the evening's events. Gwen had curled up in the corner of one of the recliners, fingers platting random, loose locks with some sort of misplaced determination until some strands held a lax curl. Ben, on the other hand, was bent in two on a separate lounge. He had his forehead resting on the bone of his knee and his eyes closed as he tried to nurse away a weak stomach. His parents would be disappointed with him if they knew he was wearing shoes on the sofa. They weren't strict parents, but they did have their rules. They'd be arriving home soon. Ben didn't want to be around when they did.

"Oi, Tennyson. Ya' still hungry?"

Sometimes Ben wondered if Kevin could read minds. Of course that was ridiculous considering some of the offensive, carefree slurs that would come out of the boy's mouth. It had gotten them into trouble more than once in the past. But still, he wondered.

Kevin himself was still idling by the wall Verdona had pinned him too. Even though Verdona herself had been long gone for quite some time, her mark on the Osmosian had stayed. The brunet winced at how loud the bruise was. It peeked just above Kevin's collar and took form as a thick ring of bellicose purple, throbbing for attention. Split wine. Blueberry blood. He didn't seem to mind. Kevin still wore it like a gold chain nonetheless.

Funny how he did the same thing with his slightly crooked nose.

iIIi

The metal of the bench was like the heart of a dead man. Stolen by the night and iced. The cool seemed to reach through the green of his jacket and licked at the base of his spine. It stung when he first lolled like a broken doll on the low-priced, metal table, tuckered out from yet another eventful, stressful day. But with the heat of summer creeping in, the chill was almost welcomed. The longer he stayed there, lazy with a mind lost down a road of fog and gravel, the more he felt the chill calm his soul, and draw the strain from out of his shoulders.

Kevin was right. Ben couldn't breathe being in a room with Verdona.

He could breathe now, however. Being out of the house and away from his grandmother.

He could breathe and he could think. He could process Gwen's words and the situation. Everything.

Mr. Smoothy did wonders for his stress levels.

Ben couldn't say he was surprised as a snicker ruptured from his throat. Trust someone like him to find nirvana lounging on the outside tables of a smoothie joint. It didn't take long for the brunet's smirk to die off though, with his mind clear, Ben had his river of thoughts building like a dam and threatening to break free as dreary tears. Gwen said she wanted to leave with Verdona. That she _needed_ to leave with Verdona for summer break or longer.

Gwen was scared, Ben could see that. She didn't enjoy her powers anymore. Didn't trust herself with them, either. They had grown too great for her to control. Her Anodite side had become too dominant, too wild with need. And accidentally attacking Ben had pushed her over the edge. The red of her hair was much like the fire of her soul, Ben liked to believe. Gwen was an ambitious girl. Had the type of determination which scorched those to ashes id they were stupid enough to stand in her way. A stew of fretful thought, and unease, cooked in Ben's belly at the thought of not allowing Gwen the chance to help herself and renew her powers. Not letting Gwen go with Verdona could also do more bad than good, too. The ginger's safety, as well as others, was at risk if Gwen continued to lose control, and that would ultimately be on Ben's hands if so. Ben putting his foot down could also damage the tight relation both he and Gwen build together as cousins and friends over the years, too.

That last one, the more selfish one, concerned Ben the most.

"Think fast, Tennyson."

Ben moaned as something hefty and reeking of grease plunged into his exposed underbelly. The young hero curled into himself and tried to rub away the soreness which bloomed from the assault. Kevin, the jerk, had thrown the bag of goods extra hard and on purpose. Knowing that Ben, with his closed eyes and sluggish bones, wouldn't be able to catch it on time. So while Ben grouched about being winded by Kevin's carelessness, the older teenager was enticed to give a foxing leer at the brunet's pain.

Now with a free hand, Kevin had no trouble multitasking between sitting down a tray of smoothies as well as shrugging.

"Told ya' to think fast. Not my fault if you can't think, Benjie."

Ben was going to bite back, knowing too well that his pride wouldn't be pleased letting Kevin get away with insulting his intelligence. But the aroma radiating from the brown paper bag had Ben reeling back in bewilderment. "Why'd you'd get me chili fries?" The brunet questioned with a cocked head, "I only gave you enough money for a smoothie."

Without missing a beat, Kevin threw another shrug in Ben's direction as he slid him a Smoothy, "I dunno, something about them givin' away bad fries to any poor sucker hungry enough and stupid enough to take them. Thought of you."

Ben knew it was a lie: the bag was warm and the fries themselves smelt appetizing, delicious – they were fresh. He also knew Kevin. And how Kevin didn't really know how to comfort people. So instead of soft words and backrubs, it was small things like a bag of chili fries, or a smoothie or a silent ride out to the middle of nowhere to clear the mind to show that he cared. Ben was also pretty sure he had bought Gwen's smoothie as well. But the way Kevin had tried to play it off told Ben that this was a we-are-not-talking-about-this-so-drop-it-Tennyson moment.

So maybe Kevin wasn't always a jerk to him. Guess that made Ben a liar, too.

"Oh. Lucky me." Ben knew how to play this game. It wasn't the first time Kevin had shouted them food and not wanted to be acknowledged for his somewhat out of character good deed. "Where's Gwen?"

"Bathroom or somethin'."

"Oh…Okay cool, I guess."

"Smooth, Tennyson." Kevin teased as he played with his straw. "You're a real wordsmith."

"Whatever, man," Ben said, his mouth full of fries. It was a petty move, so to speak, talking with his mouth full. He knew it was one of Kevin's pet peeves, something he wouldn't have guessed if not for the disgusting sneers the raven-haired boy would give him as well as the occasional clipping on the back of the head to tell him to 'knock it off, Tennyson'. "Got a lot on my mind."

Kevin stopped chewing at his straw and turned away from the brunet as the blues held him tight. And even though Kevin wasn't much of a talker, he grunted at the back of his throat, understanding Ben's inner turmoil. For he too had two wolves at war inside of his mind, confused in which of the two was the right one to feed, and which of the two was the right to starve.

The hero took a sip of his smoothie, it was chocolate and avocado, a new Mr. Smoothy combo. It was good, definitely in Ben's top ten. So he took another sip, this time longer. "We just need to talk about this. Clear the air. For, a part of me thinks that she's letting her fear control her. That she's blowing this way out of proportion and being too…rash with a decision that will affect the whole team. We can't let her go. She's _Gwen_. I don't want her to go. But another part, the less – umm, what's that word Gwen uses to describe me?"

"Narcissistic?" Kevin answered, and annoyingly enough, the brunet knew he wasn't trying to be funny.

Ben narrowed his eyes at the older teenager and bit: "I was going for analytical, but thanks for your help, Kev."

The Osmosian knitted his brows, "Gwen has never described you like that."

"You're real shit with this whole talking thing, I hope you know. So just shut up and listen. Because whatever the outcome is, it will affect you too", the brunet tried not to snap. Really. He promised himself he wouldn't allow how he was truly feeling – the overwhelmed hopelessness – to color his speech and shake his voice. Ben took to rolling his straw between his teeth, a great distraction from the newly commenced conversation and the honey-hive that was his mind – always buzzing with thoughts these days. He knew he had subconsciously balled himself small and tight. With a slight hunch in his shoulders, and lips a pout, he looked like a child being told no for the first time. It was a bad habit, this little one-man show he was doing. It was something he _had _performed as a child when he was being scolded at by an adult for either getting into a fight (he always got his ass kicked, by the way, never winning a single one) or breaking something of worth.

Funny how right now he had done neither and yet, something in the conversation had triggered a bodily reaction from his childhood.

"_Ben_."

Ben took in a deep breath. Kevin had used _that _voice. Again. He'd stepped out of line. Kevin was actually semi-participating in the conversation for once and Ben was being an emotional dick about it. So instead of proving Kevin right, that he was just a child throwing a tantrum, Ben chose to persist unloading his thoughts in a civil way. "The less _analytical _side of me believes that Gwen should do whatever she feels is best for her. If she thinks staying with our Grandmother for summer break will help her get a handling back over her powers, well then, who am I to stop her? If I continue to act like I did when Verdona was about, how does that show Gwen that I want what's best for her? That I trust her? But at the same time, how can I trust Verdona? She's sly. Like a fox. What if she takes Gwen away from me – from us – forever? How can I let her go and know that that won't happen?"

The younger teenager didn't know if he should wait in anticipation for a reply or continue to rant to the brick wall that was Kevin in most discussions.

But Ben had never been a good waiter, it used to drive his parents insane at certain events when he was just a boy – still did on some degree. So, he stole a peek at Kevin. Determining that whatever emotion played the older boy's face was what was going to make or break Ben's decision.

Jade eyes clashed with the chocolate of Kevin's and Ben found himself confused for what was not the first time that night, nor last.

Kevin was staring at him with a dumb look on his face.

"What?"

"You don't even remember what happened, do ya'?"

It didn't take a Galvan to know what Kevin was referring to.

"Of course I do."

His voice projected confidence and even edged slightly upon offense. Ben acted as if Kevin had truly insulted him with the question. Maybe if Kevin wasn't looking him straight in the eye, he would have gotten away with the lie. Maybe if his body didn't recoil like he'd been struck and the white of his skin, dust with pink he could have foxed the other boy, fooling Kevin into believing he remembered the whole of the night of the accident.

"No, ya' don't," Kevin said a matter-of-factly, turning away from the hero as he shook his head in what almost seemed like disbelief.

Ben sunk further into himself at being caught out on a lie.

_No. No, I don't really. But I do remember how you called out my name. I don't know why. But I do. And I can't get it out of my head._

"If you can't remember that night, no wonder you're worryin' about the wrong shit, Tennyson."

Ben pinched his face in confusion for a moment. "And what does that mean?"

"Again. Think, idiot." Kevin spoke as he lined up his empty smoothie cup with the trashcan a few feet off to the right. He was lining up to take a shot. "Two options. Meaning four outcomes. Two not-so-shitty. And two really shitty. Figure out what they are and see out of which you can live with."

He hesitated once. Twice. A little bit on the third try but eventually, he took the shot. The cardboard cup clipped the rim of the trashcan in a clumsy fashion, with it came a gauche ding. On Kevin's behalf, it was a careless shot. One absent in his usual bravado and teenage impetuousness. So he honestly deserved a careless result. What he didn't deserve, however, was Ben's immature snicker.

"_Smooth, Levin_." The brunet mocked, throwing back Kevin's earlier jeer.

The Osmosian gave out a fractious groan. The new hero gig was a cute ace to have under the sleeve in many circumstances, but it also came with not-so-cute responsibilities. Like being a Good Samaritan and picking up after yourself. It was especially difficult to fall under the temptations of old habits when being fixed under Ben's judicious gaze. Withal Kevin's bemoaning it seemed to summon another to do it for him. Gwen had curved the corner of the building in time to witness both Kevin and her cousin's childish dance.

Ben's eyes lit up like December's nights when spotting the ginger, "Gwen!"

He waved her over, pleased to see her sullen mood sharpen into something buoyant. A content smile blessed Gwen's lips before making a show of placing Kevin waste in the bin. Ben didn't miss the timidity which rose in Gwen's body as she raised her hand in reach of the object – she was hesitant, in both the manipulation of her manna and the confidence in herself – only to forcible depower the rosy hue from her fingertips and pick up the trash manually.

Ben didn't miss it, but he also didn't draw attention to it.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Kevin and Ben shared a look, a visible discussion. Clauses and choruses were cross-wired and knotted through the dyes of their eyes. A misperception. Simultaneously and stupidly, the both decided to answer the redhead without further debate.

Kevin was nonchalant, "the game."

Ben was restless, "you."

Miscommunication was but an instrument of slapstick in their lives and the brunet was rewarded with an elbow to the ribs for it by the older teen. However, Gwen didn't seem to mind either truths. She had promised them both she would explain her thoughts and actions. The reason for this mess.

"It is okay, Kevin," Gwen said. "We need to talk about this. I can't leave and not know what I am going to come back too if we end this on a bad note... Ben's right. We're a team. We need to make this decision."

"So", Ben began, hopeful. "You don't know if you're going or not?"

"No. I know that I need to go with Grandma Verdona, Ben." Gwen's ruby locks swayed as she shook her head at him. "I'm dangerous. I _need_ her help and this is the only way."

Ben's face pinched. That wasn't what he wanted to hear, "what are we discussing then, huh? Sounds to me likeyou already know what you're doing, team discussion or not. So why are we here? Why am I wasting my time with this crap?"

Again, the young hero was flaunting his childish ways. It had the air between the three simmering like morning eggs.

"Tennyson," Kevin warned, a frown hung his lips. "If you ain't gonna cool it with the attitude, shut ya' trap."

The hero bristled, taken back by the Osmosian's sudden shift in approach. It didn't make sense. None of it. Kevin was on _his _side. He wore a collar of blue to prove it. He didn't want Gwen to go, couldn't bare it. He was the same as Ben.

_How can you be on her side? Why are you always on her side?_

Ben didn't need an answer, he could see it in the way the two of them gazed at each other. It was a look of complete conviction and consideration. They talked with their eyes, building palaces with paragraphs and words with wonder. It was like they were sharing a secret agreement. Unlike Ben, Kevin and Gwen could always read one another like pages of a book. In return for such a trick, it had the hero's eyes blazing olive and envy.

He never had that sort of connection with either teammate. No matter how many times he saved Kevin's neck, or even if he and Gwen were blood relatives. Ben was like a misshaped puzzle piece, he just didn't connect.

Kevin had gone all cream-soft on Gwen. Something he was not when they were back at the house. When the three of them were walled in by the Tennyson's living room, the two of them had been at each other's throats. Hungry for the other to submit. For a second, Ben wallowed in confusion. The turnings of tables and emotions were too much for him to handle. But then it started flowing back to the brunet, the reason for the sudden softness in Kevin's eyes, the gratefulness in Gwen's own. Kevin was going to fold. Going to let her go. It was all because of what Gwen had said back at the house – she made it personal, by touching upon Kevin's unfortunate past; his childhood was their own form of Godwin's Law. It was a low blow on her behalf, Ben thought. However, Kevin was the type of guy who gave as good as he got. He too had no issue playing dirty and getting a few shots below the belt. But when referring to what the raven-haired boy used to be – Kevin melted.

Unlike Ben, Kevin understood what being dangerous felt like. The fear you grow for yourself. It's a terrible thing.

The ginger turned to her cousin, a plea between tooth and tongue. "Tell me, please, Ben: what's going to destroy the team more? If I stay, or if I go? Because, right now, it feels like anything could tear us apart."

It clicked in Ben's mind. Finally. What Kevin had meant before, why Gwen was so stubborn with her decisions. It all made sense.

This wasn't about him, nor his and Gwen's relationship.

"Gwen." Ben took Gwen's quivering hands in his own. "You could _never_ kill us. Would never. You're a hero, you have a heart of pure gold. You could never do anything like that."

Gwen was strung out on her beliefs that she could, or would, permanently and perpetually end one of their lives. Or all of them.

"We don't know that," Kevin spoke this time, his tone somber with reality.

"Please, Ben. Say you understand. I don't want to leave in a few days knowing you feel as though I don't care about everything that we have done over the last year." Gwen said, cupping the round of the brunet's cheeks. "The friends we've made, the lives we've saved, the wars we've won. All of that matters to me. That's why I need to do this – I need to protect them, protect you and Kevin as well. So please, _please_ tell me you understand why I have to go with Grandma Verdona for just a few months to do so."

People had always told the Tennyson cousins that they had the exact same colored eyes. Ben would always beam something polite and gentle at the stranger, reiterating the lines of a self-made script telling the person how it was all thanks to their strong Tennyson genes which they shared. It was a lie, however, on his behalf and a dull-witted assertion on the strangers. Gwen's eyes were a crown of parakeet feathers: weightless and elegant, they were wispy when the redhead with at ease, and glowed with a formidable intellect when challenged. But at that moment, as they swelled with woe and wound, they darkened in color to truly match Ben's. Dimmed with the fear of who she could hurt, and who she could kill, and if she could be stopped. If Ben made Gwen stay, he knew they would turn to ink as self-loath consumed her whole.

Ben had to let his cousin go.

"Yeah, I get it, Gwen, I really do. But you gotta come back. You can't forget about us."

"Ben. I could _never_."


End file.
